


Everything Ends At Midnight

by FuryRed



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, M/M, Smut, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/pseuds/FuryRed
Summary: At midnight, Elio goes to Oliver. What will happen between them is written not in words but in intent- in the desire that runs between them, just waiting to be fulfilled.





	Everything Ends At Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Since I watched the film I haven't been able to get *that scene* out of my head. Smut was needed.

 

 

To Elio, it seems like so much can be said whilst saying very little at all.

It has always been that way with Oliver, when the touch of his hand or the small smile on his face has said more than words ever could. It was evident on the day when Elio told Oliver he liked him- not even needing to speak explicitly but just letting him _know_ , and Oliver comprehending regardless- because it is something he has always known too. Now there is an unspoken understanding once again, sometimes that sets a shiver alight in the air, brought about by just those five words: _‘I’ll see you at midnight’_.

This time the words aren’t spoken either, they are written into paper- scrawled as if they are daring Elio to believe that they are anything less than nonchalant and carefree. But there is meaning in those five words, suggestion and expectation that cannot be denied no matter how much they both deign to mention them- a lingering promise that has Elio checking his watch every few minutes just to see how much longer he has to wait, when he has waited so long already.

_‘I’ll see you at midnight’_.

 

By the time Elio is stepping out onto the balcony the words are more than just a promise, they are an unfolding reality- a vision in front of Elio’s eyes that makes his mouth dry and his heart hammer within his chest. Oliver remains still as Elio stands beside him and for a moment it is agony, as if now that Elio knows the comfort of Oliver’s touch every second without it makes him feel like he is dying. For a brief frantic moment Elio wonders if he read too much into those words, if nothing is actually going to happen after all, but then Oliver reaches over to take his hand and the promise is fulfilled.

“I’m nervous…” Elio says quietly.

If Oliver is too then he hides it well, though from someone seemingly so controlled that isn’t a great feat. In many ways Oliver has always been very much like a riddle, albeit one Elio has laboured over with both his sight and his wanton thoughts, because when so little is given away it’s hard not to be left wanting more. And on this occasion Oliver continues to remain reserved as he heads into his bedroom, as Elio follows- trying not to become overwhelmed by the desire to just throw himself into Oliver’s arms.

Because that’s what Elio wants most of all- to hold and by held by Oliver, to touch him, to run his hands through Oliver's hair, to kiss him again. One brief embrace in a grassy field several sunny afternoons ago has not been enough to sate Elio, to stop him from thinking of Oliver and imagining all the ways they could be together if only Oliver would just _give in_ _already_. Even now he is cautious, standing at the foot of the bed and leaning back against the wooden footboard, allowing Elio to stand beside him so that their shoulders are touching, without reaching for him. With every breath Elio gives out Oliver takes one in, as if they are synchronised without saying so, as if their bodies already know the touch and feel of each other.

Elio has never been very good at practising patience. His mother always told him he was a precocious child- someone gifted but knowingly so, as if his intelligence makes him unable to tolerate the slowness of others. For Oliver he has been patient, he has waited so long, but now they are alone together, in the bedroom that used to be his own, next to a bed that undoubtedly smells of Oliver, as it did on the day when Elio sprawled himself across it in a moment of wilful abandon. The idea of doing the same thing now but _with_ Oliver, of being touched by him, of having sex in sheets that _smell_ like him… Elio’s hands tremble with the desire to reach out- uncontrollable need rising up and then, finally, taking over.

It starts with a series of playful exchanges, and Elio comes to realise that the relatively brief embraces he has had with Oliver so far have in no way prepared him for this, for Oliver to ask to kiss him but to turn his face teasingly instead, to press his lips gently to Elio’s chin, cheek, and forehead, for Oliver to laugh joyfully as Elio launches himself at him, holding on as Elio tries to wrap himself around Oliver's body entirely. The levity continues as they sit together on the bed, as Elio moves his foot to touch Oliver’s own, as Oliver laughs in that soft way he does sometimes- as if the sound is made for Elio’s ears alone. Oliver jokes about Elio getting a nosebleed and Elio reacts, and that’s when all the gaiety and mindfulness is set aside- in the moment when their mouths meet.

For all of his care and self-restraint, Oliver’s resistance fades relatively quickly as they begin to grasp at each other’s clothes, as Oliver tugs off his own shirt as Elio falls back to lie on the bed, captive and spellbound by the sight of Oliver straddling his waist, his hands frantically fumbling with the fastenings of his shorts like he cannot undo them quickly enough. There is only a moment to prepare and then Oliver is naked- glorious and unashamed as he moves to lie down on top of Elio, clearly needing to be close to him, to lose himself in the touching of their skin. Elio is similarly enamoured in return, his breathing laboured as Oliver kisses him, as Elio registers the presence of Oliver's hard cock against the point of his hip. Even now Elio aches with the urge to touch him- to stoke him properly and not just playfully grope him like he did before, if Oliver would welcome such a thing. But before Elio gets the chance Oliver is crawling lower on the bed, trailing his mouth over Elio's collarbone and upper chest, pressing soft kisses to each of his ribs in turn, nuzzling his face into the hollow of Elio's abdomen. It feels so good that Elio doesn't quite register the point when the rest of his clothing is removed, until suddenly he realises he is completely naked with Oliver- a realisation that is terrifying and elating in equal measure.

Because although Oliver is careful, although he rolls Elio onto his side gently, wrapping both arms around him from behind to hold him in an embrace, Elio still gives out shuddering breaths every time he feels Oliver's cock press against him, as he knows what it ultimately means. The intent is made clear not in words, as it never is, but in the hardness of Oliver's member as it nudges against Elio's back, and in the way Elio's own body responds to it- achingly hard himself at the thought of being fucked by Oliver.

“You okay?” Oliver asks, not for the first time that night.

This time Elio cannot get out the words to respond, but he nods his head and reaches back for Oliver- grasping his thigh with one hand. With confirmation seemingly received Oliver continues, beginning to kiss Elio's neck and shoulders as he reaches for something that Elio cannot see, something that results in Oliver's fingers being wet when they next touch him- prompting Elio to flinch at the coldness, and for another reason. There is still caution though- Oliver's trademark restraint- and it remains in place until Elio eventually nods, reaching up to hold onto Oliver's arm as Oliver's fingers start to slide down the line in-between Elio's buttocks.

At first it's just unusual more than anything else- an unfamiliar sensation that has Elio screwing up his face in response, not even realising he is squirming away until Oliver shifts forward and props his chin on Elio's shoulder, snug against him like a perfect fit. But it's perfectly imperfect to be touched by Oliver in that manner, because although Elio craves it his body still resists as Oliver slides his fingers inside, seeking out space that they twist to find. It’s both uncomfortable and enjoyable, more contradicting than any aspect of Oliver so far, and Elio moans and breathes heavily and waits to adjust to it, until Oliver's fingers brush against something unexpected and Elio almost comes instantly in response.

Elio manages to hold off, but instantly his hands fly to his own cock to squeeze it, thumb swiping through the pre-come that has formed at the tip as he lets out a heady grown. For the past several minutes Elio has felt possessed by Oliver, captive and compliant as Oliver touches him, and clearly his cock is something Oliver owns too as he reaches down to grasp it, nudging Elio's own hand away at the same time.

“It’s okay... Just calm down for me...” Oliver murmurs, reaching to gently palm Elio's balls with one hand to back him down from orgasm. It works, in spite of how unbelievably aroused Elio still feels, and it sustains Elio as Oliver continues to prep him, avoiding any other deliberate presses to his prostate but being careful nonetheless.

At the point when Oliver removes his fingers Elio actively whines, leaning into Oliver’s body as if he is chasing the sensation he squirmed away from only moments earlier, like he has always craved Oliver's touch after denying it at first. Oliver rolls Elio onto his front, the palms of his hands smoothing slowly down Elio's back, cupping his buttocks, before eventually leaving him. After that Elio can't feel anything but he can hear it- the slick sound of Oliver stroking himself- and it's enough to make Elio turn his face further into the pillow, stomach churning with nerves as he waits for what's to come.

“Do we have to do it like this?” Elio asks eventually, his voice quiet and timid. “I’d like to see you...”

Every time Elio asks Oliver for something he feels himself tense, as if he expects to be shut down immediately, but it never happens. On this occasion it takes a few moments, time for Oliver to slowly stroke his fingers through Elio's hair, gently tracing the gold necklace around Elio's throat, before he leans closer and the press of his lips to Elio's cheek gives him the answer he seeks. Some apprehension remains as Elio rolls over onto his back, until he sees Oliver leaning over him and he finally begins to relax.

In spite of all the words in all of the languages Elio knows he finds it hard to settle on one that describes how perfect Oliver looks as he settles in-between Elio's spread legs, completely naked except for the Star of David around his neck, his hair in disarray, the expression on his face serene yet slightly awed- as if he cannot believe what he is looking at. For a moment they just gaze at each other, adoration in soft focus, no sound at all but the low hum of insects outside, and it's simple and it's wonderful and it's perfect, and for a moment Elio wonders why there's any need for anything else when they can have this. But then Oliver shifts, the head of his cock just nudging against Elio's entrance, and Elio is reminded.

Elio always knew it would hurt, but in some ways he knew he wanted that too- to be marked by Oliver; something to remember him by once he is gone. But as it happens Elio can't help but gasp, hands flying up to grip Oliver's shoulders, squeezing as he feels Oliver still, his cock only slightly inside. Oliver reaches to gently cup Elio's face, his thumb brushing against Elio's lower lip, and it's clear they're speaking without words again- waiting to see if this something Elio really does want, or if he needs to stop it now it has only just started. But after a moment Elio relaxes, his hands loosen on Oliver’s shoulders as he slides them around to Oliver’s back instead, running over the muscle there as Oliver continues to watch him. It takes a bit more for Oliver to continue, but after a moment he moves his face closer, taking the waiting kiss from Elio's gaping mouth and accepting it as an answer as he starts to move once more.

In some ways it’s unbelievable to consider all the moments that have led to this point- every conversation and touch and tease and kiss that have now culminated in Elio lying beneath Oliver, legs wrapped around Oliver's waist as Oliver steadily starts to roll his hips. Muffled gasps litter the air around them, exhaled from Elio's mouth as he adjusts to the feeling of Oliver's body against his own, Oliver's cock inside of him, nudging him towards a pleasure he didn't know he needed. Because it feels good, in spite of the initial discomfort- not just the physical sensations but to know that it is Oliver; someone Elio likes and respects and something more than that- something that lacks the need for words, like most of their interactions. And therefore it is worth the soreness that will undoubtedly come tomorrow to be able to see Oliver like this, to be able to watch him as he groans and shudders, pulling out to come. If the sight of that were not enough to push Elio over the edge the sensation does it- feeling Oliver's hot come splash across his chest and abdomen before Oliver reaches down, grasping Elio's cock and starting to stroke firmly. Being as young and inexperienced as he is it has never taken much for Elio to climax, and sometimes even just thinking about Oliver has been enough, but this time it is seeing and feeling his large hand at work that does it- stroking Elio's member as he too shakes and writhes and comes.

 

In the afterglow Elio is incapacitated, able to do little more than lie there as Oliver uses his shirt to clean them both off, before he moves to lie with Elio afterwards. It's the most vulnerable Oliver has ever been and Elio can't help but worship the sight- smiling softly as Oliver practically snuggles into him, seeming more at peace than he has ever been. It's perfect and it's as uncomplicated it can be in darkness, when the clock is still not far past midnight and they have hours until sunrise and the obstacles of morning. Because everything they have ever been has changed now, as if their lives are rearranged into two singular time periods- before and after. Elio knew that their meeting would represent change- as unavoidable and altering as anything ever has been- and that nothing would ever be the same again. Because everything ends at midnight, and in some ways it begins too.


End file.
